Golden
by The Sparrow's Wing
Summary: Emily has never been happier since joining Carlisle and Edward, and they're glad to have her. But their happiness seems to come at a price none of them are willing to pay...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is the sequel to Cry Little Sister, so if you haven't read that yet, please do. Oh, just a reminder, if you've heard of it, I wasn't the one who thoguht of it first. (That would be Stephenie Meyer.)

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**Golden**

**Chapter One**

Both Edward and Carlisle marveled at the self-control I had in that first year. Carlisle had thought Edward had done well as a newborn, having only slipped once two months after his transformation. But I surprised them both, appearing immune to the scent of human blood and hunting with a fervor neither of them knew I had.

But the self-control came at a price. I was always thirsty, my throat always burning dryly, the venom always flowing excessively in my mouth. Carlisle promised the constant thirst would fade by the end of the first year, when it would be easier to last for longer periods of time without feeding. I trusted him because I did not believe there was room in his silent heart for lies; I trusted him because although we would not have chosen this life for ourselves, he was determined to ensure we could maintain even a shred of the humanity we'd once had.

And as the blood of elk, moose, bears, even the occasional wolf ran through my veins, my eyes mellowed from bright scarlet to molten gold.

Carlisle had worried that we wouldn't be able to remain in Chicago without drawing suspicion. But after carefully monitoring my self-control for a time, he decided a new neighborhood in a different part of the city was all we needed. So we moved to an impressive townhouse in one of Chicago's lower-upper class neighbors, incredibly similar to the neighborhood Edward and I had grown up in.

There were advantages to this strange new life. Carlisle, having had plenty of time in two hundred and fifty years to earn it, was so wealthy that neither Edward nor I could comprehend it, even though our own family had been fairly well-off. And he was learned in a way no human could have been, for he'd spent almost a century studying in the famous universities of Europe.

So when the light of day forced the three of us inside, Carlisle became our teacher. He taught us all the languages he knew—French, Spanish, Italian, German, Latin, even Greek. He taught us everything he'd studied: philosophy, literature, religion, history, science, medicine. And when he ran out of things to teach us, he told us the stories of his past, of his painful transformation, of the birth of his philosophy, of his studies across the British Isles and Europe, of the coven of vampires he found in Italy.

But when night fell, he trusted us enough to leave us. He was dedicated to using what he'd been given to help others when someone else couldn't. He took the night shifts most doctors detested, covered the occasional day shift without resting in part because he didn't need to but mainly because he didn't want to.

And when Carlisle left us, Edward and I became the brother and sister we'd once been. We could have been silent, but still the voices babbling through my head upset me, so we talked aloud as a distraction. Our talent was our bond, each knowing the other's mood and thoughts in an instant, our minds intwined every moment of everyday. It brought us closer together than we could have hoped.

Most nights, when we were alone in the townhouse, he told me of how he'd spent the last year. Perhaps the most difficult and emotional story for both of us was of the night he'd found me dying.

We were sitting in the parlor, staring silently out the window. Then Edward said quietly, "I suppose you were lucky I made it to Carlisle." I asked him softly why; he sighed before answering. "After I passed the first year mark, I went to Aunt Sophia's every night, to make sure you were all right. I should have known what Aunt Sophia and Silas were planning; looking back on it now, though, I never once thought that either of them would go through with it."

"Go through with what?" I whispered. It hurt to think that Edward might have been able to stop Silas before he did what he did.

Edward's golden eyes were sad as he replied, "Aunt Sophia just wanted to fake your suicide; Silas, however, decided to take advantage of the fact that you'd be dead by morning." He paused to gauge my expression. A slight twinge of fear might have showed in my eyes, but my face was otherwise an emotionless mask of marble. Edward sighed again and continued, "I was still several streets away when I heard you cry out. You'd cried out in your sleep before, always for me, but this time was different."

His eyes grew even sadder through the dark, and he was watching my face carefully again. "This time, it was a different pain that made you cry out," Edward murmured. "And I knew exactly what he'd done to you, because I saw it all throguh your eyes."

That was when I dropped my eyes from his. If I could have cried, I might have. This was a painful turn our conversation had taken, but neither of us could go back now.

It was quiet between us for a moment. Then Edward took in a long, ragged, unnecessary breath and said, "I was pushing myself too far; I hadn't hunted in almost two weeks. But it was, and still is, my duty as your brother to protect you. Except you almost needed more protection from me than anyone else."

I still couldn't meet his eyes as I questioned, "Why?"

Edward sighed. "I was so close to taking you in the instant I found you. He'd made it so easy for me, slicing open two of the most vulnerable arteries in the body, leaving you so defenseless and broken."

I shuddered at his words. He'd known every thought I had as I lay dying, even the wish that everything would end. And he'd come so close to ending everything himself.

When I finally managed to look at him again, he had hidden his face behind one pale hand. His anguish and guilt were throbbing painfully in the back of my mind, and it hurt me to see him this way. I rose from my chair, crossed the room, and kissed him sweetly on the cheek.

"But instead you became my delivering angel," I told him softly. His hand slid from his face; his golden eyes were bright, and so was his smile.

He murmured just as quietly, "And so I did." I didn't need to thank him, for he already knew the gratitude I felt, saw it in my mind.


	2. Chapter 2

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**Chapter Two**

April and May of 1920 were cloudier and rainier than they had been for many years. So many across the city, especially those who loved the sun, were suffering with the rain and the clouds, but Carlisle, Edward, and I were glad to see the rain and clouds. They meant we were finally able to fake a normal life.

Already my thirst seemed to have faded considerably, although only five months had gone by. My eyes had long been the mellow gold that I now had in common with Carlisle and Edward, so we would draw less attention than we would have if they were still vivid red. So Carlisle had decided, after carefully thinking everything through, that it would be all right to rejoin society as normally as we could.

Carlisle continued to take the night shifts at the nearest hospital, but instead of teaching us indoors where we hid from the sun, he took our classes to the streets. We would walk for much of the day, usually conversing in whatever language Carlisle happened to choose, and then as night fell, we would say goodbye and go our separate ways, Edward and I back to the townhouse, Carlisle to the hospital.

It was nice, being almost normal for those two months. We were all in exceptionally good moods most of the time, laughing and smiling together like a happy family should.

We were really still humans at heart, unable to completely shake the roles we'd had in our former lives. Carlisle, who had known aching loneliness for two hundred and fifty years, was suddenly glad to know we were always there waiting for him, and Edward and I were each suddenly competing to impress him like young children. And Carlisle and Edward, who had lived almost awkwardly with each other even with their male bonding, were both glad to have a female in the house.

Perhaps that was what made this golden period so golden. I hate now to think how shallow I was back then, but I had always been the young, spoiled girl in the family and abruptly was again. Carlisle brought the kinds of gifts he knew I would enjoy for our lessons: books of poetry, translations of ancient works, newly published works I would be among the first to read. Edward, however, brought the same gifts he always had: absurd trinkets that had no use, postcards with pretty pictures, costume jewelry I might wear, the occasional small bouquet of flowers.

And even in this golden period, I also suffered. I had realized that I did not love Carlisle in this life as I had as a human. I loved him as the father figure he was to me, but I could not love him for anything more. This strange feeling pained me at first, but after a time, I was glad to love him even as a father. But there was always a strange ache in my chest that made me yearn for the time when I had loved him as more.

Our neighbors were surprised to see us. They had come to suspect the three of us were recluses, hiding from the world for reasons known only to us. When we'd arrived, the story we'd offered the neighbors was that Edward and I were the younger siblings of Carlisle's deceased wife. But the neighbors didn't seem to believe it, not while Carlisle strode the streets so obviously lightheartedly.

The elderly widow who lived directly next door was the most concerned, although her concern ran only as deep as gossiping about us. It was she who had started the vicious rumor that the handsome, young widowed doctor was having a secret affair with his late wife's younger sister. She was also the one that started asking questions among the other neighbors, inquiring if they'd ever seen us during the day at any other time or if they knew anything about us.

One day three weeks later, Widow Milverton waited until she saw Edward and me returning to the house. She emerged on her front stoop just as Edward and I passed it; we both politely, neighborly said good evening to her and asked her how her day had been. She drew up stiffly and said haughtily, "It was pleasant, although I doubt that is any of your concern." Then, making her way slowly down the steps to where Edward and I stood on the sidewalk, she told us harshly, "I know what goes on in that place you call home."

Edward and I exchanged glances. Her thoughts were rivers of acid running through our heads: _It makes me sick…such handsome, young people twisted in a disgusting web of disgrace and incest…I would bet my husband's entire estate that the girl's pregnant and that they both know it…this has probably happened before…no doubt the good doctor knows how to keep himself out of trouble…_

_Edward, please make her stop, _I pleaded silently. _I can't bear to hear her think of Carlisle this way._

His face was set in a hard mask. _I know; I can't either. I'll take care of this. _Edward took a small step forward towards the widow and murmured softly, turning the full force of his golden eyes on her, "I'm not sure we know what you mean, Mrs. Milverton. What goes on in the place our family calls home?"

Usually Edward's dazzling eyes and velvet voice were enough to smooth over any conflict, but Mrs. Milverton had clearly been won over too many times before. She snapped tersely, "Don't try dazzling me, young man! Your honeyed words won't work on me! And as for your question, I know exactly what goes on in that house while the rest of us sleep!"

"What might that be, ma'am?" I queried politely, although Edward and I both knew the answer.

Mrs. Milverton's anger spun to me in the instant I spoke. She pointed a gnarled finger in my face and scolded, "Don't you speak to me like you still have any honor left in that thin little body of yours, young lady! I am absolutely disgusted by what you let that man do to you during the night! No doubt you begged him to do it in the first place, you harlot!"

That was when Edward's temper snapped. So many thoughts of killing the old woman and making it look like an accident flashed through his head that it almost made me sick. He had even moved towards her behind her back, but I stopped him quickly, thinking, _Edward, please, think of Carlisle!_

He calmed immediately at my mention of Carlisle. Edward cleared his throat slightly, yanking Mrs. Milverton's attention back to him, and stated, "Mrs. Milverton, I don't appreciate your calling my sister a harlot, and I also don't appreciate your insinuating that my brother-in-law would act in such a manner."

She tried to interrupt him, but he cut across her stonily, "I don't want to hear it, Mrs. Milverton. I know you won't apologize for what you've said, but I'm sorry for you. Sorry that because you have no scandal in your life, you have to invent it into lives that don't need it. Sorry that you envy the handsome young doctor for having the whole world at his feet while you have only your memories. Sorry that you look into my sister's face and hate her for being so perfectly young, for having two such handsome young men who so clearly love her."

Edward turned from her and said to me, taking my elbow lightly, "Come, Emily, we're going to find Carlisle." He led me back up the street towards the hospital, releasing me once Mrs. Milverton was out of sight. We both knew we would have to leave Chicago, for fear that Mrs. Milverton might find out too much. Edward's jaw was clenched, like the mere thought of leaving upset him.

It upset me too. I had always lived in Chicago, had never called another city home. And now a snooping widow was forcing my family out of the city we so clearly loved? We worked so hard at controlling the monsters we were supposed to be; surely we deserved a place to call home as a reward?

When we had found Carlisle and Edward had explained everything too quickly and too quietly for humans to hear, Carlisle's beautiful face fell. He nodded slowly, as if the gesture caused him great pain, and murmured, "We'll have to leave tomorrow night."

And we did, leaving behind the first home we'd known as a family.


	3. Chapter 3

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**A/N: **This used to be part of a much longer chapter that I broke down. It's a little short, but it was the best part for a break.

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**Chapter Three**

We left Chicago for New York City, partly because Carlisle knew how Edward and I favored city life, partly because he favored it himself. In large cities, it was easier for him to stay longer than he might in a small town, and if he were forced to, he could move to another neighborhood or borough with little fear of being recognized or remembered.

It was almost like being in Chicago again. We lived in Brooklyn in the middle of a row of brownstone townhouses in an upper-class neighborhood; we made quick trips to the Catskills or the Adirondacks whenever we needed to hunt. Fortunately, Brooklyn was also unusually sunless that year, so we even continued to revel in being able to leave the house during the day.

So life went on for us. Carlisle spent his nights at the hospital while Edward and I tried to pass the time as best we could. Sometimes we argued for hours as we struggled to compose a single piece of music on which we could never quite agree; mostly, however, we ended up reading, translating and memorizing every book we owned into every language we knew. When we ran out of books, though, we sat silently, our thoughts focused on Carlisle's, six blocks away at the hospital.

We were at peace with this cruel existence of ours. It was a fragile peace, as fragile as the humans we could so easily hunt, yet we were determined to protect it, just as we were determined to protect the humans from ourselves.

And in return, it shattered into shards of dust at our feet.


	4. Chapter 4

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**Chapter Four**

The night of the ninth of July in 1920 will be forever etched in my mind. The things I saw that night were things I never wanted to see, but they've been burned into my memories and will always haunt me.

Carlisle had agreed to cover an early night shift for Doctor Southcott, whose wife was so extremely pregnant he didn't dare to leave her. Edward and I had decided to meet Carlisle there because we were so utterly bored at the house, and it was nice to get out when we were usually stuck inside.

So we reached the hospital around eleven and and found Carlisle in his small office just down the hall from the emergency ward. He was pleasantly surprised to see us there but asked wearily, "Will you be able to handle staying here long?"

Shoving his hands in the pockets of his trousers and grinning hugely, Edward answered, "For a while perhaps, unless they bring in someone who's severed every artery in their body." Even Carlisle smiled.

We conversed quietly for several minutes, waiting for the next shift's doctor to arrive. But then there were hurried footsteps in the hall, making all three of us turn expectantly towards the door. One of the nurses burst in and panted, ignoring Edward and me standing mere inches from her, "Dr. Cullen, they need you in the emergency ward immediately!"

Carlisle moved past her almost too quickly; she thought tiredly, _how can he always manage to move so quickly?_ But she followed him back down the hall with the two of us trailing behind her.

Edward and I were surprised at the scene we saw before us.

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"No, you stay away from my son!" A worn-looking woman was backing away from Carlisle, trying to shield the young boy in her arms from him. "You're not setting a finger on him, not while he's still alive!" she shrieked at him.

But the boy was deathly pale, except where his skin was stained scarlet from the blood that had soaked the shirt over his thin chest. His dark sapphire eyes were slipping closed, but they fastened on Edward and me standing on the edge of the ward. I couldn't bear to hear his thoughts, as filled with pain as they were.

All three of the nurses were trying to convince the woman to let Carlisle see her son, but she just kept shrieking, "No! He's not touching my son!" _He's a monster, _her thoughts cried, _and he can't help my son! He can only hurt him!_

Meanwhile, Carlisle was suffering. I saw it too plainly in his beautiful face, heard it too clearly echoing through his thoughts. He wanted to help, knew exactly how to stop the boy's profuse bleeding, knew what he would do even if he couldn't save the boy.

I couldn't bear it anymore. I buried my face in Edward's chest just to stop from seeing everything and felt him press his face into my hair as he attempted to do the same. But the young boy's face and thoughts were burned in our minds.

_Please...it hurts...make it stop..._

Soon the only sound I could hear was the weak beating of the boy's heart. Every weakening beat reverberated loudly through my head, blocking out every sound in the room, except one.

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**A/N: **Again, this was part of a much longer chapter. So sorry if it seems too short.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Carlisle's tortured thoughts were sharp stabs, each one more painful than the last. I hated the woman for doing this to him, hated her for hurting him this way, hated her for forcing him to watch her son die.

Did it not matter that he was the best doctor anywhere? Did it not matter he could have saved her son even when no other doctor could? Did it not matter that he had struggled for so long to accept what he'd become? Did it not matter that he'd become a doctor because he wanted to help people instead of hurt them?

Finally I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't want to hear Carlisle's tortured thoughts or the boy's fading heartbeat anymore. The boy was beautiful, even as he lay dying in his mother's arms; he would have been a beautiful addition to our family.

Edward read the intentions in my mind just as I moved away. He reached out to take my arm, but I knocked his hand away. He thought with alarm, _Emily, stop! You can't handle the blood!_

But there was no dry burn in my throat as I crossed the room too quickly for any human. There was no hollow yearn as I gently pulled the dying boy out of his mother's arms. There was only the burning hate I felt for the woman who had dared to hurt Carlisle and her dying child this way.

Ignoring the woman's shrieks of protest, ignoring her clawing fingers in my hair and skirt, I turned to Carlisle. Our eyes met, and for a brief second, I felt he could read my mind as easily as I could read his. We both knew what would save the boy now, but it was saddening that we were damning such a young soul.

Carlisle took the boy without a word to me. But he said quietly to the stunned nurses behind me, his voice ringing with the authority few men knew, "Josie, Olivia, Rachel, move the woman to a bed and give her just enough morphine to render her unconscious." For a moment, they simply stared at the two of us in shock, but he snapped uncharacteristically, his voice echoing loudly through the room, "Now!" The harshness in his usually velvet-smooth voice startled them into obeying.

Once they were preoccupied with quieting the still-shrieking woman, Carlisle carried the boy to the opposite end of the ward. Edward and I followed him, keeping a wary eye on the nurses in case they should wonder what was going on. Once we were out of earshot, Edward whispered roughly, "You can't seriously be considering this, Carlisle?"

As he gingerly laid the boy on the bed tucked into the darkest corner, Carlisle retorted in an irate whisper, "What else will you have me do, Edward? I will not stand here and watch him die when I can still save him! I can reach out and save him as easily as I saved you or Emily."

But as they argued, the boy was slipping closer to death with each passing second. I wiped the blood from his face and murmured to him that everything would be all right, that it would all be over soon. He looked up at me, his small pale face full of his child's innocence, and whispered softly, "No, it's never over." The pain in his midnight eyes and the hopelessness in his hoarse murmur were so utterly heartbreaking that I sobbed. I didn't want this boy to join our new life without knowing his name first, so I asked him what it was. I barely heard the name slip past his lips, but I loved it as quickly as I loved him: "Evan."

And as soon as the word was past his lips, the ragged breath in his chest stopped. And the heart whose sound had echoed so painfully through my head gave one final, painful lurch, then fell silent.

"Carlisle!" But I knew it was too late. Evan was too far gone to be saved, if that's what one could call this cruel existence. He'd been taken from this world before he'd seen it through the eyes of an adult, yet he'd seen things few adults saw. He'd seen that pain will always transcend death, in more ways than one.

In the instant that his midnight eyes had fastened on mine, I felt that he'd seen me as what I was, that he'd seen through my half-hearted promise that everything would be over.

I bent over his small limp body and sobbed brokenly for him. Edward's hand stroked my hair comfortingly, and his thoughts were soft and sympathetic. _Emily, I'm sorry; I know you wanted Carlisle to save him._

But there was something else that made me sob harder.

Carlisle was staring at his reflection in the blackened window above the bed, hating the face he saw there because it let an innocent boy die.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

When Dr. Hudson arrived at eleven-thirty, Carlisle had already carried Evan's small body to the morgue, and Evan's mother Miranda had already succumbed to unconsciousness, unable to fight off the morphine.

Carlisle, Edward, and I were sitting in Carlisle's small office, mourning for the lost boy. I did mourn for the beautiful boy who had known more about this world than most adults, but his death seemed so insignificant in comparison to the self-loathing Carlisle had so suddenly adopted. So, regardless of how improper it would seem to the nurses or the other doctors, I was sitting in his lap, my head resting in the bend where his neck swept down to his shoulders, whispering to him that he couldn't blame himself for everything.

"Dr. Hudson's here, Carlisle," Edward murmured too softly for human ears just as there was a knock on the door.

Running a hand through his slightly disheveled hair, Carlisle called, "Come in."

Dr. Hudson, a balding man in his late forties and a navy three-piece suit, opened the door. He was mildly surprised to see Edward and me there, particularly where I sat in Carlisle's lap, but he didn't comment. Instead, he said, "Rachel told me what happened. Carlisle, I'm sorry."

Carlisle murmured, "Thank you." Sighing, he thought to me, _Emily, get up. We're going home. _I obeyed and handed him his jacket from the coat rack. He put it on and said to Dr. Hudson, "If it's all right, Warren, I think I'll head home for the night."

"Of course," Dr. Hudson replied. "You've had a long night, and I'm sure you'd all like to go home." He offered me a warm smile he might have given a granddaughter, but I could feel his eyes roam across the blood that had stained the front of my dress. Almost immediately, Edward crossed the room in a few long steps, took the jacket out of Carlisle's hand, and draped it around my shoulders.

We returned to the townhouse around midnight. Carlisle went upstairs to the room he'd made into his study; Edward and I remained downstairs in the sitting room, trying to ignore his anguished thoughts the best we could in an attempt to give him some privacy. After an hour in silence, Edward got up from his chair with a sigh and went to sit at the piano, which we had brought with us from Chicago.

The next morning, Carlisle didn't come down from his study. We left him in peace, Edward out of politeness, but I didn't want to hear Carlisle's thoughts of revulsion for himself.

He was punishing himself for letting the boy die, but that wasn't the only reason he'd locked himself away from us.

He'd known the crushing loneliness of this existence for too many years before he had found a companion in Edward. But Carlisle wanted what any man wanted.

I had seen him look sadly into the faces of young couples in love, couples whose smiles and hearts were meant for each other. I noticed this more than Edward, perhaps because I had often worn the same expression of sadness while looking upon Carlisle's beautiful face. I hated that I'd once loved him as he wanted to be loved but did not love him that way in this existence. I hated that he had given up on the thought that I could love him more than Edward.

And now Carlisle could see only the monster in himself. He saw only the monster that humans so naturally shied away from; he saw the monster he was through the eyes of the woman who'd refused to let him save her son.

But it was only because he couldn't see himself from my eyes or even Edward's eyes. He couldn't see what we saw: the kind, loving, compassionate man who hated the existence he'd been given; the monster who had decided that he'd rather be good than bad; the vampire who refused to drink human blood; but perhaps most importantly of all, the best man we ever knew or would ever know, no matter how many men we would meet.

Even a week after Evan's death, Carlisle still had not emerged from his study. I had begun worrying several days before (I was too much like my mother in that sense―we were both worriers), but Edward had assured me that Carlisle would come out when he wanted. But we needed to hunt, and we knew Carlisle needed to as well.

So we knocked politely on his door just after twilight. He didn't answer, not out loud or in his thoughts. Edward and I exchanged curious glances; usually he always answered, one way or another, and it was difficult for Edward and me to block out anyone's thoughts, especially Carlisle's, in such close proximity.

I opened the door slowly, not wanting to disturb him if he was inside. But his study was empty, the few papers on his otherwise spotless desk rustling in the warm breeze blowing through the open window.

_He's gone, _ I thought sadly. This pain was worse than any I'd felt in this new life; Carlisle was gone, gone from my life like everyone else I had known: my mother, my father, Mrs. Benson, little Sarah, even Aunt Sophia. Death had taken some, circumstances other, but they were gone.

Just as Carlisle was.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Edward and I didn't quite know what to do. We hunted that night because we could not go much longer without doing so, but we stayed incredibly close to the city, probably too close. But we were both afraid to stay away too long, in case Carlisle was still somewhere in the city.

Four of the doctors Carlisle worked with at the hospital―Dr. Winscott, Dr. Hudson, Dr. Keneally, and Dr. Moss ― stopped by the house, asking where he was. Dr. Keneally was the first to come knocking just after dark three days after Edward and I had realized Carlisle was gone.

I was the one who answered the door, playing the role of the polite yet worried girl of the family. On our front stoop stood an elderly man whose straight back and squared shoulders defied most stereotypes of the elderly. Once I'd opened the door, he said, "I apologize for knocking at what must be your dinner hour, young lady, but I was hoping I could find Dr. Cullen at home."

"Oh, sir," I lied, "it would perhaps be best if you stepped inside." I opened the door wide enough to let him inside and shut the door behind him.

Once he was in the entry hall, the man said, "I should perhaps introduce myself. I am Dr. Lawrence Keneally; I work with Carlisle down at the hospital." He offered me his hand.

Shaking it quickly, I told him, "I am Emily, Carlisle's sister-in-law, and this is my elder brother, Edward." Edward, who had moved to stand silently in the doorway to the parlor, nodded his head politely to Dr. Keneally but otherwise didn't move. _Go ahead, Emily. We have to tell someone. _"I'm afraid, Dr. Keneally," I lied again, "that you won't find Carlisle here."

Dr. Keneally's brow furrowed, and he asked disapprovingly, "May I inquire as to why?"

I glanced quickly at Edward, as if afraid to reveal too much, and then answered, "He's gone. Even Edward and I don't know where he is."

"He's gone?" Dr. Keneally repeated in disbelief. "He just left his two young charges alone in the middle of the city? That hardly seems fitting of a man like Carlisle!"

Edward nodded and agreed shortly, "Yes, that was what we thought as well. Imagine the shock for us when we find our brother-in-law and caretaker gone."

The old man looked at him wearily and thought briefly of reprimanding him for his tone, but he decided it wasn't his place. "Have you gone to the police yet?" Dr. Keneally queried. "Surely they'll help find a talented, prominent doctor like Carlisle."

I shook my head and explained, letting sorrow slip into my voice, "Actually, we already have, Dr. Keneally. We went when Carlisle didn't come home that day, but they told us that they don't have time to scour the entire city for a doctor who didn't come home. They suggested sarcastically that maybe he'd taken extra shifts and forgotten to tell us."

Dr. Keneally shook his head disgustedly. "Police these days," he muttered, "too damn lazy to look for anyone worthwhile." Then, realizing I was there, he quickly amended, "Oh, pardon my language, Miss Emily." He sighed and began patting his pockets after a moment; he withdrew a small notebook and pen, scribbled something down, tore out the paper, and handed it to me.

It was an address several blocks away, a house that Carlisle, Edward, and I had passed many times on our walks. Dr. Keneally explained, "This is my address. If Carlisle doesn't return in another week, I want you two to come over, and you can stay with my wife and me until he does. I don't want two as young as you living alone much longer. Okay?"

Blinking back tears that could never exist, I nodded and promised him we would.

By the end of the week, the other three doctors had knocked on our door, asked if we'd gone to the police, and offered us places in their homes if Carlisle didn't come back in a week.

The night after Dr. Moss's visit, Edward sighed in irritation. He rose fluidly from the chair he'd pulled up to the window and thought, _Emily, I'm going for a walk. _I asked him silently why. _I just need to get out of the house. Maybe I'll run into Carlisle while I'm out._

I let him go. We were too moody together, our intertwined thoughts doubling our irritation, our pain; distance helped some, not a lot, but enough to calm us both down. We bickered over the slightest things; earlier in the day, we'd both thrown childish tantrums over who was reading what book, and we'd ruined the book by pulling it apart between us.

We wanted Carlisle back, no, needed him back because without him, we were no good than school-age siblings who could argue in seven languages and break anything and everything. He was truly our loving father and our reprimanding teacher.

And we both missed him, in our own ways. Edward missed the guiding hero Carlisle had become to him, but I missed the bright warmth Carlisle brought to the house. I missed the glint in his eyes, the wide smile splitting his face, his perfect script forming a note across the first blank page of a book. I missed the father who'd brought me to this life.

Maybe an hour after Edward left, I got up from the piano, where I had been working on an score that could represent the pain in my chest. I went upstairs to Carlisle's study because it was the only room in the house that was his alone, because it was easiest to imagine him sitting at his desk and staring at a medical textbook until he'd memorized every word and every drawing in it.

But it wasn't the same without him. I went to sit in the leather wing-backed chair behind the desk, wondering how Carlisle could possibly think to leave us alone in the middle of New York City. We were perfectly capable of taking care of ourselves, seeing as Edward and I were adults in every sense of the word, but Carlisle wasn't the sort to so abruptly abandon his family.

After a while, in the darkest hour just before dawn, I heard the front door below open and close. I knew instantly it was Edward, returning alone before the sun rose. He silently came upstairs, knowing exactly where I was and why. He gracefully sank into the chair opposite me and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. _I didn't find him,_ he thought with a sigh, _although I really didn't believe I would anyway._

I didn't answer. I had just noticed the envelope lying on the desk. How neither of us hadn't noticed it before, I wasn't sure; it was so out of sight on Carlisle's nearly spotless desk that someone far less observant would have seen it there. Edward, having heard my thoughts, came around the desk .

_Will you read it, Edward? _ I asked him, handing it to him. _I don't want to read it._

Edward's eyes studied our names written in Carlisle's hand across the front, and then his long fingers flipped the envelope over and gently broke open the seal. Edward pulled out the paper inside and unfolded it carefully. I read it with him, tracing each word through his thoughts as they registered.

_I have something I need to do alone. I don't know where it will take me or how long it will take. But regardless of either, I will return. I'm afraid, though, that our time in New York is drawing to a close. In the middle drawer of my desk, you will find my letter of resignation and a letter to the real estate broker who sold me the house. Carlisle._

I opened the middle drawer of his desk, and just as he'd promised, there were two letters there, one addressed to Dr. Keneally, the other to a Colin Avery neither Edward nor I had met. I said sadly, "I suppose we should take these to the appropriate people, shouldn't we?"

Sighing, Edward answered, "I suppose." He was quiet for a moment, then said, "I think you should take the letter to Dr. Keneally; he liked you more than he liked me. Besides, I don't know if we can trust this Colin Avery to take a beautiful girl like you seriously." He offered me his dazzling crooked grin, flashing most of his perfect teeth.

Later that afternoon, even though it had been raining all morning, I took Carlisle's letter of resignation to the hospital. Dr. Keneally was surprised (just like the rest of the staff there) to see me, and he didn't handle Carlisle's resignation very well at all. Apparently Carlisle's letter of resignation didn't explain why, so Dr. Keneally asked me.

I told him the story Edward and I had agreed on that morning: "Carlisle received a telegram two weeks ago from his older brother. Their parents are dying, and none of the doctors in Philadelphia know how to help them, so Carlisle left immediately. He's managed to stabilize them for now, but he wants us there with him in case they don't make it much longer."

Dr. Keneally nodded and offered me his sympathies; I thanked him politely, promised to pass them along to Carlisle, and left.

Edward's encounter with Colin Avery went as well as could be expected. Mr. Avery had agreed to let us stay in the house until Carlisle came for us on the lone condition that we stop by to tell him when we left.

So we packed up our belongings and waited.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thought I'd remind you, if it seems familiar, it's because it is, and I didn't come up with it.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

Three days later, Carlisle still had not come home. I knew it wouldn't do any good to worry about him; he had taken care of himself for almost two hundred and fifty years before Edward and I had joined him and certainly didn't need me to take care of him. But I was like my mother in that sense: worrying about the ones you love even when you know there's nothing you can do.

I couldn't take it anymore. I knew he would keep his promise, wouldn't dare lie to the only family he had. But I also knew he was punishing himself. He didn't think himself worthy enough to look into Edward's and my faces, not when he'd failed to save that innocent boy.

But I had to tell him everything Edward and I felt for him. The overwhelming respect, the undying loyalty, the love for the father whose entire world once seemed to revolve around us―Carlisle needed to know everything from our point of view, so he could finally understand exactly how much he meant to us.

So Edward and I had a heated argument that lasted most of the day and made the neighbors gossip. But when night had fallen, I left the city and headed north to the Catskills. It was incredibly likely that Carlisle wasn't there at all, but still I had to check, and when I found those woods and mountains devoid of his presence, I continued even farther to the north, all the way to the Adirondacks.

It was deep in the heart of the Adirondacks that I found him. I had been scouring the forest and mountains for a week already and was just preparing to return home to Edward when I noticed the faintly familiar scent on the wind. For a moment, I thought it could have easily been mine, for I had crisscrossed in the area so many times I'd lost count.

But then I heard his familiar 'voice' and knew instantly that I'd found him. Although his thoughts were still full of hate for himself, I followed them painfully up the mountain until I found myself on the edge of a small clearing, looking upon the saddest sight I had ever seen or would ever see.

Carlisle was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the clearing. He was as still as the large, flat rock on which he sat, and he didn't look up at the sound of my approach, didn't even let it register in his thoughts. He was too obsessed with hating himself to notice anything else. I bit back a sob; this wasn't the Carlisle I knew.

He was still wearing the clothes he'd worn that fateful night over three weeks ago, the knees of his trousers mud- and grass-stained, his normally bright white shirt stained with dirt and blood. There was mud dried in his dishevelled blonde hair, and a dark streak of dirt traced the edge of his jawline, striking a sharp contrast to the marble whiteness of his cheek.

It hurt too much to see him like this. I sobbed brokenly, "Oh, Carlisle!" His head snapped up at the sound of my voice, but he thought bitterly, _Go away, Emily._

But I couldn't, wouldn't leave him like this. I loved him too much to let him think this way. I crossed the clearing to him and knelt next to him on the rock; I murmured to him, "I'm not going anywhere without you, Carlisle."

He shook his perfect, blonde head in disagreement. _You should go home to Edward; I'll be there eventually._

"I know," I whispered, "but I would rather know where you are than sit at home and worry about you." He gave me a reproaching look, but I wasn't going anywhere. I reached up, brushed the dirt from his jaw, and broke up the mud in his hair so it rained down on his shoulders. Knocking it away, I sighed and said, "Carlisle, hiding in the mountains won't change what happened."

What he did next surprised me more than anything else. He broke down sobbing and collapsed wearily against me. I instinctively wrapped my arms around him and held him close enough to feel the sobs jerking through his stone chest.

_But I didn't save him...I stood by and watched him die when I could have saved him...his blood will never wash off my hands..._

"Carlisle, please," I begged, "stop thinking this way." He shook his head against my chest and continued to sob. My fingers found his chin and raised it until our eyes of identical hues, the very proof of our identical choices, met. "That little boy's death was not your fault, Carlisle," I told him. "That little boy died because his mother was too damn afraid of her own fears to save her own son."

He shook his head in protest again, but my fingers tightened on his chin, stopping him instantly. I half-snarled, "No, listen to me, Carlisle! You did nothing wrong that night. I know better than anyone that you had every intention of saving that little boy to the best of your abilities, and although none of us liked the idea of damning a child to our existence, we were prepared to do it."

Carlisle knocked my hand away and broke away, starting to pace the clearing so quickly that he was just a blur. I hated to see him this way; it clashed too sharply with the Carlisle I knew. "Do you know what I saw that night, Carlisle?" I asked him, watching his every move and cringing at his responding thoughts.

"I saw no monster in you," I answered, ignoring his internal scoffing. "I saw a monster in that woman who forced you to stand by and watch that boy die. But that wasn't what I was referring to. That night, I saw God cry."

Carlisle stopped suddenly several feet away, appearing seemingly out of thin air. _What do you mean?_

Rising smoothly to my feet, I went over to him and explained quietly, "I saw God cry because one of His children refused to let another help her dying son. God wept because He had to watch the purest, the kindest, the best of His children suffer. He watched that woman hurt you more than you'd ever been hurt before."

_You really think so? _Carlisle wondered, his eyes melting with sudden hope.

"Of course," I replied with a small smile. "If there is an afterlife for our kind, you deserve it more than any of us. I've never known a man or vampire as kind, caring, loving, and compassionate as you are. No one could ever find your equal throughout history." I kissed him sweetly on the cheek and murmured, "And I'm proud to call you my father."

He smiled; we embraced for several moments. Then he pulled away and queried lightly, smiling so brightly I almost loved him as I once had, "Shall we go home then?" I beamed too, abruptly intoxicated by his presence, and nodded.

When we returned to the townhouse two days later, Edward and Carlisle embraced like long-lost brothers. And during the night, we left New York City.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

We moved to Ashland, Wisconsin, a small city lying on the shores of Lake Superior. They welcomed the strangely beautiful family with open arms and gave Carlisle free reign of their small hospital. Despite being so far from everything we knew and the cityscape we loved, Edward and I found Ashland a desirable enough place to call home.

Perhaps the strangest thing about Ashland was the way people so easily accepted us. They were not inclined to gossip about the handsome, young doctor and his late wife's equally beautiful twin siblings. They did not talk in hushed whispers about why we'd settled here after leaving first Chicago and then New York City.

We were determined to keep things that way. Carlisle had been through the northern parts of the country before and knew that the region was famous for being habitually overcast. So we went on with life like we would have if we were human.

And the citizens of Ashland helped. They invited us to their few social events, and the mayor and aldermen would stop us on the street if they saw us. Women of all ages smiled and giggled like schoolgirls at the sight of Edward or Carlisle, while nearly every man in town (including the happily married ones) thought about me more than they should have.

But as September drew nearer, there was a slight uproar when Ashland's citizens found out that Dr. Cullen had not yet enrolled his young wards at the public high school. The mayor's wife and even the wives of most of the aldermen stopped by the hospital every few days to ask Carlisle if he had any intention of enrolling us. They all hoped he would give them different answers, but in that they were disappointed.

Carlisle always told them the same thing: "I've discussed the subject with Edward and Emily, and neither of them believe high school is what they need." The women never seemed to accept the answer and protested that surely Carlisle would know what his wards needed better than his wards themselves. Carlisle, however, always replied sternly, "Perhaps, but on this, I agree with them. They've had the best private tutors in Chicago and New York, and they have both been accepted to the University of Chicago for next fall. So frankly, I think they deserve a year off after all their hard work." He always ended the conversation with the dazzling smile that made most women feel like fainting.

He had discussed the subject with Edward and me, but we'd given him reasons different from the ones he gave as excuses. None of us believed that Edward and I were controlled enough yet to handle being in such small spaces with so many humans, and frankly, Edward and I weren't thrilled by the idea of going back to school, much less a public school. We both believed that classes taught by a woman who didn't teach from experience seemed incredibly mundane after our daily lessons with Carlisle. We couldn't have found a better teacher anywhere.

Once classes at Ashland High School started, and there was no sign of Edward's and my enrollment, the gossiping died down. The mayor and aldermen's wives stopped wondering why Edward and I would turn down high school and instead began bragging about how the town doctor's young charges would make the city so proud by attending a prestigious university in Chicago.

In November, Edward asked me one night if I had ever heard anything from any of Father's associates at the law firm regarding Father's will. I hadn't heard anything from them at all, not even a single "My family and I are so sorry for your loss."

So Edward and Carlisle sat down and started discussing the best way to get everything that was rightfully Edward's and mine. Their most sophisicated plan involved Edward going back to Chicago to claim everything with Carlisle accompanying him as his uncle. But our father's law partners knew our family as well as we did and would know immediately that it was a lie.

I, however, had unintentionally set up a better plan. The lie I'd given to Mrs. Benson had provided an alibi for my disappearance from Chicago, and now it would provide another alibi for my continued absence from the city.

When I told Edward and Carlisle about my fickle lie, Edward just laughed but said, "That does provide a much better story than the one we came up with. But I have to ask, sister, why Carlisle?"

Carlisle slapped him playfully on the back of the head with a soft sound like faraway yet still nearby lightning. "Because I'm one of those men that every girl wants to marry," he said jokingly. He beamed dazzlingly at me with the smile that would have made my human heart lurch painfully.

We waited until exactly two weeks before Christmas to leave Ashland, under the pretense that we were spending the holiday with Carlisle's family in Chicago and would be returning just after New Year's. Although their entire family was coming up from Milwaukee, Mayor and Mrs. Brady personally saw us off from the train station.

Once we'd arrived in Chicago, the three of us checked into the best hotel in Hyde Park as newlywed Carlisle and Emily St. Andrews, who were spending the holidays in Chicago with the bride's brother Edward Davis. We checked in under false names simply as a precaution against anyone who might recognize the names Masen or Cullen.

The Wednesday after we arrived in Chicago, Carlisle and I left Edward at the hotel and walked several city blocks through the swirling snow to the law firm where my father had so faithfully worked. As we walked arm in arm down the streets, passersby―particularly the older women who felt a subtle longing for Carlisle's outrageously perfect beauty―were content to believe that the smiling, laughing, young, beautiful couple were newly engaged or wed lovers.

My father's law firm was on the fifth floor of the Fisher building; I noticed with a twinge of pain that they hadn't changed the name from Coates, Hardwicke, Masen, and Porter. Carlisle noticed this also, patted my hand comfortingly, and kissed me on the forehead sweetly. _Are you sure you want to do this? _he wondered, his brow furrowing slightly.

I nodded. "Edward and I both deserve the things our parents left behind," I told him. I smiled and added, "Besides, I have to show you off to someone. It might as well be the men who once wanted me as one of their sons' wives."

Carlisle's answering smile was dazzling.

It was time to test the men my father had known, to see if I could trust them as my father had.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

The young woman at the front desk looked up as Carlisle and I stepped off the lift. Upon seeing Carlisle's beautiful face, she subconsciously began smoothing her hair back into its low bun; her instinctive primping and flustered thoughts made me smile. There was a low chuckle in the back of my mind that was Edward's as he sat at the hotel, watching everything through my mind. The young woman managed to stammer as we drew up to her desk, "Good afternoon. How may I help you?"

I offered her a soft, easy smile, not flashing too many teeth. Behind me, Carlisle was doing the same (and receiving most of her attention, judging by the way her eyes would slip to him every few seconds). "Actually," I told her, "I was hoping I might to speak to one of the partners, if they're available?"

She was surprised that I wanted her help and disappointed that Carlisle didn't. But she nodded and answered politely, "Mr. Hardwicke is available at the moment; if you'll wait here, I'll go tell him you'd like to see him."

"Thank you," I called quietly after her as she rose from her chair and started down the hall towards the partners' offices. She glanced back over her shoulder at my voice, her heart pounding when her eyes landed on Carlisle again.

Smiling at Carlisle, I murmured so low and fast that humans wouldn't hear, "If you keep impressing people like that, this will be easier than any of us had hoped."

He smiled and replied softly, "I'm afraid I can only properly impress the women; you'll have to impress the men, Emily. But from what Edward told me, you did that even as a human. I suppose it'll be even easier now?"

I was going to answer when a familiar voice abruptly asked, "Emily, is that really you?" I looked up to see Julian Hardwicke standing several feet away, looking dumbstruck at the sight of me, barely able to recognize me behind my perfect, marble angel's face.

Beaming brightly, I answered, "Of course. Who else would it be?"

Julian crossed the room in several steps but stopped suddenly when he spotted Carlisle standing so close to my side. With a stiff nod that held no warmth for Carlisle, Julian questioned suspiciously, "May I ask who's accompanying you today?" _They're probably already engaged; Patrick will be disappointed._

Of course. When I was human, Julian had been hoping that his son Patrick and I would one day marry. But Edward had a deep, almost disturbing dislike for Patrick Hardwicke, and I trusted Edward to know the truer side of young men better than I ever could. So because Edward had known Patrick's true side, I detested the farce Patrick offered me.

I could feel Carlisle's eyes on me as I answered, touching his arm, "Julian, this is my husband, Carlisle." Carlisle smiled and extended his hand.

"Husband?" Julian was clearly stunned. _I don't believe it...Emily, married? _He made no motion to shake Carlisle's hand; Carlisle discreetly let his hand drop.

Nodding and smiling up warmly at Carlisle, I explained, "Yes. He was a great comfort to me after Mother, Father, and Edward died; he showed me that I hadn't lost everyone who loved me." I reached up and !-- page size: 8.5in 11in; margin: 0.79in P margin-bottom: 0.08in --kissed him sweetly, ignoring Edward's ghostly chuckle in my head at the sudden flood of emotions rushing through my mind. _She still should have married Patrick, _Julian thought bitterly. _What can this Carlisle offer her that Patrick can't?_ He queried, "So tell me, Carlisle, what do you do for a living?"

Carlisle's arm tightened around my waist. I molded myself to his perfect chest, playing the part of the rich doctor's enamored young wife. Carlisle replied lightly, "I'm a physician in Philadelphia, but my father wants me to join his law firm."

"Oh," Julian said casually, "so you'll have to go back to law school?"

Carlisle shook his head. "Actually, I've already been through both law and medical school. But I decided I liked medicine better." A small smile slipped onto his lips; I was the only one there who knew that he was actually telling the truth.

_Of course you did, _Julian thought sardonically. But he said to me, "Now, Emily, Cassandra said you wanted to speak to one of the partners. May I ask about what?"

I let my brow furrow quickly in false confusion, then replied, as if I'd just remembered, "Oh, yes, I was hoping I could speak to one of you about Mother and Father's wills." I smiled so angelically that Julian just blinked in surprise.

Then Julian cleared his throat and said, "We were expecting you would come to discuss this with us one day. Let's discuss this in my office." He led us down the hall to his office, which was directly next door to the office that had been my father's. It saddened me to see that they hadn't changed a single thing about my father's office; he might have just gone home for the day.

When we were all comfortably seated, Julian shuffled a few papers on his desk nervously. "Your mother, I'm sure you know, left almost everything to you," he said, "but I'm afraid, Emily, that there are complications regarding your father's will and the remainder of your mother's will."

This was no surprise to me. Edward and Carlisle, between the two of them, had already foreseen this problem. But I asked him innocently what it could be. Julian glanced quickly at Carlisle. _He probably married her for the money._

But Julian explained to me, "You see, Emily, what your parents didn't leave to you, they left to Edward. I know, and both Gregory and Nathaniel know as well, that your parents and Edward died in the Spanish influenza epidemic. But there is no legal proof of their deaths. Without that proof, we cannot legally give you everything in case there's the off chance they're still alive."

I turned hopelessly to Carlisle, who sighed and patted my hand reassuringly. "It's all right, Emily," he told me quietly. "I was afraid of this, so I went down to the hospital and went through their records. It's amazing what a little patience will find."

Carlisle pulled from the inner pocket of his jacket three sheets of folded paper. He handed them one at a time to Julian, saying as he did, "Here are three death certificates, one for Edward Anthony Masen Senior, one for Elizabeth Anne Blackwell-Masen, and another for Edward Anthony Masen Junior."

Julian looked disbelievingly at all three of them, trying to determine if they'd been forged. They were wholly legitimate, apart from the fact that Carlisle had just written them up the previous night, completely identical to the ones he had filed away just after my parents' deaths and Edward's transformation. We could have easily gone to find them, just as Carlisle said he had, but it was so much simpler and less time-consuming to forge identical ones.

"You signed all three of them," Julian managed to remark after a moment. It was the only thing he could find wrong with the death certificates, but it wasn't even wrong, just an odd coincidence.

Carlisle just looked at him with mild surprise. "Of course," he replied with a casual shrug. "I was the doctor on call at the hospital at the time."

So, because we'd provided the proper legal proof, I legally inherited everything my mother and father had left to Edward or myself. And when Carlisle and I returned to the hotel that afternoon, Edward embraced me. _Thank you, _he thought warmly.

Meeting his eyes, I smiled._ I know how much Mother and Father's things mean to you, and I know how much they mean to me. But they're ours now._

And would always be.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

We returned to Ashland on January fifth, 1921. It was just our luck that Mayor Brady's family was leaving to return to Milwaukee that day; Mayor and Mrs. Brady were so pleased to see Dr. Cullen and his young wards that they actually invited us over for dinner. But we were thirsty and hadn't hunted since we'd left Ashland, so Carlisle politely declined with the excuse that our long train ride had left us weary and homesick. They invited us over for the next night.

Our absence seemed to have depressed the small city over the holidays. Mrs. Brady and the aldermen's wives, wearing their newest Christmas presents to impress Carlisle and Edward, greeted us warmly as if they hadn't seen us in years. The mayor and the aldermen stopped Edward and Carlisle on the streets to ask their opinions on city matters. High school girls giggled to see my brother and adoptive father; young men offered me smiles that did nothing to hide their infatuation.

Dinner at the Brady house went as well as one could expect. Carlisle, Edward, and I were not particularly thrilled by the idea of sitting down to eat a meal with the mayor, his wife, and their children, especially since the food was completely unnecessary for us. It held no taste for us, not when we first ate it, and certainly not when we had to cough it up later, like cats with hairballs. The younger Brady children, eight-year-old triplets, were obnoxious and loud, in both voices and thoughts; the elder children, sixteen-year-old Sara and seventeen-year-old Stuart, spent the entire evening conjuring up fantasies involving the three of us that made Edward and me feel nauseous.

But life continued for us. We were happy again, just as we had been in Chicago and then in New York. But, being the worrier I was, I feared that perhaps this peace would also be shattered. A gossiping, suspicious widow might ruin it, or a dying boy beyond saving might rip fresh holes in our chests.

I feared that finding peace then watching it shatter in front of us was our curse, not this existence that may or may not have damned us eternally.

I feared that our lives as we lived them were the best we would ever know.

* * *

**A/N: **This is the end of this story, but there will be more to come, I promise. My plan (that may never be completed, I'm sorry) is to write the Cullen family history from Emily's point of view, even all the way through the Twilight saga. That's my plan, and I'll try to accomplish as much of it as is possible, but you'll have to bear with me. I'm a freshman in college, so my free time will be severely cut.


End file.
